


close encounters of the feline kind

by anathema (azirapha1e)



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Kittens, M/M, brief mentions of internalised homophobia, not much but like. it's There
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 07:26:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10183973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azirapha1e/pseuds/anathema
Summary: In some universes, love blossoms in swimming pools. In others, there are kittens involved.





	

Isak is awake at 6am. He does not approve of this development for several reasons.

One: Isak is not a morning person. Isak is the exact opposite of a morning person, and in an ideal world wouldn’t move from the cocoon of his bed until midday at the earliest. Late morning is (very occasionally) also acceptable, but crack-of-dawn-before-sunrise Isak bears more than a passing resemblance to a reanimated corpse.

Two: Being woken up this early usually means something has happened. Often, this will be something that requires his attention, and the only thing Isak hates more than early mornings are early mornings that entail making an effort.

Three: Isak had been having a very, very nice dream featuring a boy with dark blond hair and very, very nice lips, and he wants to get back to it before reality kicks in and he remembers that the boy in question has never actually kissed him at all.

 _Maybe_ , Isak thinks, _maybe, it was a false alarm._

He cautiously pulls the duvet up over his shoulders and rolls onto his side. When no disturbance comes, he lets his eyes close and his mind drift. He thinks about the way Even had looked at him a few nights before, trying to tempt the dream into coming back to him.

Someone flicks his foot.

“Jesus!” Isak yelps, flailing in a tangled flurry of blankets, and narrowly avoids falling off the bed.

“Good morning, my tiny gay protégé,” Eskild coos.

Isak groans.

“What the fuck, leave me alone,” he pleads, flopping back against the pillows and rubbing a hand over his face. He can’t see Eskild with his arm over his eyes but Eskild’s pouts, unfortunately, are things that can be heard as well as seen, and consequently are unavoidable.

“Am I not allowed to talk to my favourite roommate?” Eskild asks him, wounded. “Gosh. How unkind. How cruel. Utterly -”

“ _Eskild_.”

“So, what do you think of cats?”

Eskild’s voice has that kind of faux-casualness to it that suggests that this is part of A Plan. Isak, suffering the misfortune of being friends with the people he is friends with, is well acquainted with Plans. They lead to things being blackmailed into joining school societies and having to host pre-game parties and biology partners holding your friend’s weed hostage. Isak has had enough of Plans for the next few decades, at least. Possibly the rest of his lifetime.

He narrows his eyes.

“They’re… okay?” he says, cautiously. Eskild doesn’t reply, but his smile grows until he’s beaming and he claps his hands together.

 _Oh no_ , Isak thinks.

Just as this realisation dawns on him, the door to his room creaks open seemingly of its own accord. Frowning, he rises reluctantly out of bed – and discovers that the door has not opened by itself after all.

“Uh. Hello,” Isak says. The kitten on his bedroom floor observes him for a moment, little head tilted in consideration, before it pounces on his socked feet.  
  
“Oh, excellent, he likes you already!” Eskild crows, delighted.

“Likes – I’m being mauled, Eskild!” Isak argues, as he tries to bat the kitten away without either of them suffering too badly in the process. The kitten seems intent on making this as difficult as possible, and Isak is forced to hop awkwardly on his cat-free foot.

“Noora found him outside in the alley,” Eskild explains, blithely ignoring Isak’s plight, “and it’s forecast to snow later, so obviously we couldn’t just leave him there.”  
  
“Why not?” Isak asks through gritted teeth. He succeeds in pulling the sock out of the kitten’s mouth, only for the little beast to switch from attacking his feet to attacking his fingers before Isak manages to shake himself free.

“Because he’s a baby! Honestly. You think you’d have sympathy, considering the situation I found you in –”

“Stop talking,” Isak says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Anyway,” Eskild continues bracingly, “We’ve decided, as a household, that we’re going to keep him here, at least for the time being.”

“ _What_ -”

“All the shelters are full,” Eskild says, loud enough to drown out Isak’s protests, “and I think giving a defenceless kitten away in the middle of winter would give me a complex. So he’s going to stay, and this is going to be a heart-warming bonding activity that will bring all of us roomies closer together.”

“I do not want to be closer to you,” Isak tells him.

“Which is precisely why you’re going to take part. We’re a team, Isak,” Eskild says, seriously. “A team who save stray kittens from gay bars and dodgy alleyways and pay our rent on time.”

Isak sighs. He makes sure to draw it out, so Eskild can grasp the true scale of his suffering.

“Fine,” he mutters. “But I’m not clearing up shit.”

“Baby steps,” Eskild tells him sweetly, patting his cheek. “We’ll get you to clean your own shit off the floor of this room first, hm?”

Isak throws a nearby pillow at him, but Eskild is already halfway out the door.

“Love you too!” he yells at Isak, throwing the pillow back, and this definitely wins the joint prize for worst and most bizarre non-hangover themed morning of the year. No contest.

Isak takes the pillow and hides his face in it, resisting the urge to scream.

“Fuck,” he says, frustrated and slightly muffled.

It isn’t that Isak doesn’t like cats. He doesn’t mind them, actually, when they’re not actively attacking him, and he’ll admit that the kitten is cute – anything that’s fluffy and the same colour as peach fuzz is guaranteed to be cute. The problem is that Isak tends to fuck up when it comes to fragile and delicate things. A kitten is a very fragile and delicate thing. What if he steps on it in the night? What if Isak and the kitten don’t get along, and the others decide to vote him out and let the kitten take his place? What if the kitten turns into one of those asshole cats and starts ripping holes in Isak’s jeans and knocking water glasses off the kitchen counter?

An odd tugging sensation on the sheets draws him out of his thoughts. He looks down and finds the kitten staring up at him, attempting to climb his mattress.

“Nope,” he says, and gently pushes it back onto the floor. The kitten lands with a soft thump and looks at Isak in a way that is distinctly unimpressed, before stubbornly standing up on its wobbly hind legs and trying again.

“Whatever,” Isak mutters, and goes back to sleep.

 

* * *

 

When he next wakes up, sunlight is slipping in through the blinds. He sits upright slowly and rummages around for his phone, discovering both the time (11:35am), and a series of texts from Jonas.

 

> _hey can i borrow ur bio notes?? i have a quiz this afternoon_ (8:42am)
> 
> _help me isak-wan kenobi ur my only hope_ (8:44am)
> 
> _isak???????_ (9:00am)
> 
> _dude wake tf up u’ve missed first period_ (11:00am)

A cold feeling of dread sinks into the pit of Isak’s stomach.

Shit.

He scrambles out of bed, hurriedly pulling a shirt over his head and picking the closest pair of jeans up off the floor. Getting ready takes him about five minutes, start to finish (barring an incident with the toothpaste in the bathroom, but he wiped the mirror mostly clean and what Eskild doesn’t know won’t hurt him). The feeling of despair is fading somewhat when he grabs his backpack off the desk. He’s about to shove his textbooks inside when he sees it: two gleaming yellow eyes staring at him from inside the bag.

“Oh no,” Isak says. “No, no, no. Please.”

The kitten meows at him petulantly from the backpack’s depths.

“No,” Isak says sternly, determinedly hauling the kitten out, but it clings like an angry, stubborn limpet and hooks its claws into the mesh fabric inside. Isak tries to lift it and gets a tiny kitten-hiss and a bite to the wrist for his trouble. _Do not give in to the demands of a baby demon_ , Isak’s logical side tells him, but it’s a warning that comes too late, the guilt already welling up in his chest. He makes his touches softer, moves his hands slower.

“I’m sorry,” he tells the kitten, honest and not without sympathy. “It’s school rules, you know? No cats. You wouldn’t like it there anyway.”

The news doesn’t seem to go down well. If kittens could scowl, Isak thinks dryly, watching as it stares at him mutinously. Eventually, after a few seconds and a little cajoling, it graciously allows Isak to take it from the bag.

“Thank you,” Isak breathes out. There is a brief moment of respite – boy watching cat, cat watching boy. The kitten is the truce-breaker in the end, batting at his nose rather sharply with one paw.

“Hey!” Isak says, affronted. “All right, fine, you can get down.”

He puts the kitten on the floor and then it’s a matter of speedily shoving his notes and textbooks into his cat free rucksack and grabbing his keys off the windowsill before he’s ready to go - he’s about to turn off the bedroom light when he feels a weight attach itself to his jeans and tiny pinpricks on his calf.

“Jesus Christ,” Isak groans, and when he finally manages to wrestle the kitten off his pants-leg he’s fairly sure at least three of his fingers are bleeding.

“What do you want?” Isak demands, holding the kitten up to his face, and the kitten mews at him, shrill and obnoxious and loud, and tries vainly to crawl through the air. To crawl towards him, Isak realises, and he remembers suddenly that for all its faults, the kitten in front of him is only a few months old at most. Isak’s room is probably the warmest and driest place it’s been for a while. Isak is probably one of the few living things in the world it has spent time around – and while he may not be a feline, he’s familiar with the feeling of being young and lost with nowhere to go.

“Fine,” Isak says, defeated. “Fine. Don’t blame me when you realise how dull my life is.”

He lifts the kitten closer gingerly, half expecting it to lunge forward and try to attach itself to his face (this is one of the many occasions in his life where he regrets allowing Jonas to force him into watching Alien). Instead, it clambers up onto his shoulders and situates itself smugly in the hood of his jumper.

“Can we go?” he asks.

The kitten purrs quietly.

“Fucking cats,” Isak mutters, and settles his backpack on his shoulders before locking the front door.

 

* * *

 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Isak says, making his way over to where Jonas and the other boys are gathered in the canteen. “Sorry, fuck, overslept.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Mahdi answers. He grins at Isak, eyebrows raised. “What, did you get lucky with that Emma girl or something?”

“Fuck that, do you have the notes?” Jonas cuts in, wide eyed and more than a little desperate. Isak rummages through his bag before handing them over and Jonas gathers them to his chest, breathing out a sigh of relief.

“I take back anything bad I’ve ever said about you,” Jonas tells him seriously, and Isak opens his mouth to reply with something suitably catty when he feels a tell-tale wriggle against his neck, swiftly followed by something nibbling at his ear. It takes all his self-control not to jump.

“I, um. I should go find Sana,” he says apologetically, “make sure I didn’t miss anything important this morning.”

Jonas frowns.

“Dude, your biology class isn’t until 2.”

“It’s - there was a schedule change,” Isak tells him hurriedly, already backing away. “Sorry, gotta go, good luck on the test!”

“Holy shit,” he hears Magnus say as he leaves, “did you see those scratches on his neck? He totally got laid last night. Holy _shit_.”

* * *

 

The bathroom he ducks into is blissfully deserted, so Isak wastes no time in fishing the wriggling kitten out of his hood and placing it on the counter. It looks up at him, head innocently cocked to one side.

“You,” Isak says, pointing a finger accusingly, “were supposed to be sleeping. We had a truce.”

The kitten ignores him, and begins to carefully lick its front paws.

“Fuck,” Isak groans, and he knows really that he dug himself into this hole. He let his terrible roommates and this terrible kitten manipulate him into making some incredibly ill-advised choices. This is the fate he deserves: holed up alone in the boy’s bathroom, attempting to reason with a cat that he illicitly smuggled onto school premises. He tries very hard to be bitter about this. The kitten purrs when he scratches its chin, and Isak decides to amend his previous thought: Eskild and the others are still terrible influences, but maybe it’s not the kitten’s fault.

Someone behind him laughs very quietly. Isak jumps a little, turning his head to see –

Even is stood in the doorway (and of course it would be Even, the same Even he had a dream about last night, who almost-not-quite kissed him the night before that, Even who is all Isak can think about), watching him with an expression that’s somewhere between delight and bemusement. Isak tries vainly to keep his cool. He can feel his cheeks flushing pink.

“It’s not mine,” he blurts out. Even raises his eyebrows, and Isak adds hurriedly, “I mean - it is, sort of, but technically it’s Eskild’s, he’s the one who decided to keep it.”

To his credit, Even seems to take this news in his stride. He moves a little closer until he’s stood next to Isak by the countertop, then offers the kitten his hand.

“I wouldn’t –” Isak begins nervously, memories of the previous night’s mauling flooding back to him, but the kitten sniffs daintily at Even’s fingers for moment before nuzzling against them, purring happily.

Isak stares, agape. Even catches sight of his expression and laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he grins.

“I love cats,” Even explains, scratching the kitten’s chin, “and they love me back. It’s my best talent.”

As if on cue the kitten mews at Even, little paws clutching at his fingers. Even’s expression takes on a momentary softness. He reaches out with his other hand to smooth down the fur around its ears and says, in a voice that’s low and warm and gentle, “Hello! I like you too.”

God, Isak is fucked.

“How did you get him in here?” Even asks him, and Isak blames what happens next on the fact that his brain is still recovering from hearing Even sweet-talk a cat, because his mouth, in an act of betrayal he can hardly believe, opens itself and says:

“I, um. It fell asleep in the hood of my sweatshirt, so I just… carried it?”

 _Why_ , Isak asks himself, in a moment of quiet despair. _Why did you do that. Congratulations. You have successfully erased any ounce of cool you’d managed to persuade him you had._

“You let a kitten,” Even says, “fall asleep in your hoodie.”

“It would’ve been lonely at home,” Isak protests weakly.

Even smiles at him; one of those rare, full mouthed Even smiles, warm and soft, the kind that reaches his eyes and brings out his dimples. Isak decides, in that moment, that he’s going to carry kittens in his hoodies for the rest of the school year, rules be damned. He’ll do anything if it means Even will keep looking at him like that.  
  
“I never saw you as a rulebreaker, Isak,” Even says, still looking amused. Isak scoffs.

“I can break rules,” he retorts. “I broke a rule just now.”

“Sneaking kittens into school. You’re a true criminal.”

“I went skinny dipping on private property with Jonas last year,” Isak tells him confidentially, and the momentary look of shock on Even’s face fills him with a warm curl of satisfaction.

“Wish I could have been there,” Even says, meeting Isak’s eyes, and the expression on his face is the same one he had in the flat kitchen two days before. The intensity of it; Even’s dark eyes on him, the pink curve of his mouth, is almost too much - Isak looks away, blushing slightly, and coughs into his sleeve. When he looks back, Even is still watching him.

“Isak,” Even says, voice low. “I have a favour to ask.”

Isak’s mouth goes dry.

“Yeah?” he manages.

Even leans in close, and says:  
  
“Will you let me steal you and your cat for the afternoon?”

* * *

 

They stop off at a corner shop on the way to Even’s place, buying milk, two packets of cat food, and a bar of chocolate - the last one thrown into the shopping basket by Even after Isak was caught eyeing it longingly.  
  
“You didn’t have to,” Isak mutters, blushing furiously, as they walk to the bus stop. Even leans closer, letting their shoulders brush.  
  
“I wanted to. Feel free to share some of it if that would help you deal with the guilt,” he replies, grinning, and his smile is playful but his eyes are soft in a way that says, _let me do this for you. Please._  
  
It’s funny to Isak, how all the logical thinking he does when he’s out of Even’s orbit gets completely forgotten whenever he’s in it. _He has a girlfriend_ and _you’re not actually gay_ and _you’re building this into something it isn’t_ are all thoughts that come to him when he’s by himself; are all thoughts he agrees in the moment, but the world changes shape whenever Even enters it, and Isak changes with it. That doesn’t bother him the way he feels like it should.  
  
Isak reaches up to adjust his hoodie and his knuckles brush against the softness of the kitten’s fur. Who he is when he’s alone isn’t who he is now, he decides. And who he is now is a boy who wants to go home with the boy standing next to him. That’s all that matters.  
  
“All right?” Even asks him quietly. Isak starts, then shakes himself a little.  
  
“Sure,” he answers, looking up to smile at Even, and for the time being he finds that he means it.  
  
The kitten watches the world avidly from its chosen outpost in Isak’s hood, but a few minutes into the bus journey it starts to doze. Isak surreptitiously lifts it out and holds it in his arms, being careful to keep it out of sight.  
  
“It could fall,” he says defensively when he catches the knowing grin Even is giving him.  
  
Even doesn’t answer, just raises his eyebrows in a way that says, ‘sure’, and Isak sighs, bowing his head to make sure the kitten is sitting securely on his lap. When the bus slows to a halt, Isak doesn’t bother letting the kitten climb back up – just holds it close to his chest and makes sure to keep it from view as he steps out onto the pavement.  
  
“Stealthy,” Even comments as they make their way up the apartment building’s steps.  
  
“I told you I could be,” Isak tells him proudly. Even snorts, opening the front door.  
  
“You can put him down if you want,” he says, flicking on the lights. “We used to have a cat, my mum won’t mind.”  
  
Isak bends down, hesitantly placing the kitten on the floor. He doesn’t go particularly far, wandering over to sniff at the skirting board before making his way back over to Isak and brushing against his ankles. Isak has never really considered himself an animal person, but he thinks that maybe he understands that mentality a little better now: it’s nice, for some reason, to have a tiny cat’s approval.  
  
The air is suddenly permeated with a meaty, fishy smell. Isak wrinkles his nose in disgust, and when he turns around Even is waving one of the cat food sachets at him, grinning.  
  
“Would you like some?” he asks.  
  
“I think I’m fine,” Isak says dryly. The kitten, on the other hand, sniffs the air and trots over to Even, mewing insistently. Even smiles slightly, bending down to pet his nose. Isak’s stomach flips. He decides to blame it on the cat food.  
  
Even leads him into the kitchen, getting two shallow bowls out from under the sink. He fills one with water and squeezes the contents of the food packet (which somehow manages to look even worse than it smells) into the other while Isak sits cross legged on the floor and watches, the kitten sat purring on his lap.  
  
“There,” Even says, wiping his hands on a dishcloth before settling next to Isak on the floor. “Let’s see what he thinks.”  
  
Isak gently nudges the kitten from its chosen spot. At first it gives him one of its kitten-glares, apparently upset at being moved, but then it takes notice of the bowls set out in the middle of the floor.  
  
“I thought cats were dignified,” Isak says, as they watch the kitten climb inside the food dish.  
  
“Adult cats, yes,” Even answers. “Baby cats, no.”  
  
Seeing the kitten enthusiastically attack its meal is sort of like seeing a train wreck in slow-motion. Isak is 90% sure that it steps in more food than it eats, but it does take a few decent mouthfuls – an achievement which he feels oddly proud of, despite having no part in it. Drinking is more successful. The kitten laps happily from the water bowl, only spilling a few drops onto its fur, and afterwards it yawns widely and curls up on the floor.  
  
“Someone needs a nap, I think,” Even says fondly. Isak frowns a little.  
  
“Are kittens supposed to fall asleep that quickly?”  
  
Even snorts.  
  
“He’s fine, trust me,” he tells Isak, “you can put him on the rug in my room if you want. We'll watch a film or something, keep an eye on him.”  
  
He walks over and gently scoops the kitten up off the tiled floor, handing him over.  
  
“Does he have a name yet?” he asks. Isak wrinkles his nose. He knows that the kitten is a little adventurous and a little lazy. He knows that it really, really likes his hoodie. He doesn’t actually know anything else about it – only that it’s decided that Isak is going to be its human chaperone.  
  
“That,” Isak says, “is a good question.”  
  
He makes him way into Even’s room, sitting down on the floor with the kitten asleep on his lap, and decides to text Eskild for answers.

 

 

>                                                                       hey does the cat have a name?? (3:56pm)
> 
> _fozzie bear_ (3:58pm)  
>    
>                                                                                                          ??????????? (3:58pm)  
>    
>  _don’t ask me linn came up with it (_ 3:59pm)
> 
> _why do u suddenly care about the_  
>  _cat’s name cherub_ (3:59pm)
> 
>                                                 i’m using him as a weapon of mass seduction (4:00pm)  
>    
>  _!!!! I’M SO PROUD !!!!_ (4:02pm)
> 
> _USE PROTECTION BE SAFE_  
>  _I PUT SOME CONDOMS IN UR WALLET_ (4:02pm)
> 
>                                                                                                               wha t (4:03pm)
> 
> _don’t bother questioning me go make out_  
>  _with ur mystery man_ (4:04pm)
> 
>                                                                                 he’s not mine yet, eskild (4:04pm)
> 
> _yet. bc u haven’t made out with him. fix that._  
>  _make ur gay mentor proud_ (4:05pm)
> 
>  
> 
>  

“Hey,” Even says, walking in with two glasses of water. Isak slams his phone face down on the carpet.  
  
“Hey,” he answers, aiming for casual and sort of making it, if a little breathless around the edges.  
  
“So. Name?” Even asks, setting the water down on the bedside table before sitting next to Isak on the rug and reaching out to stroke the dozing kitten behind the ears.  
  
“Fozzie Bear,” Isak tells him. “Apparently.”  
  
Even nods in approval.  
  
“Cool. Like the muppet. Good choice.”  
  
“Oh my god,” Isak says, half-laughing, half-groaning.  
  
“What?” Even says, but he’s laughing too, “What’s wrong with that?”  
  
Isak rolls his eyes.  
  
“We’re not seven,” he says slowly.  
  
“Have you never seen The Muppets?” Even asks him, grinning and sounding very serious.  
  
“I’ve seen The Muppets,” Isak insists. “I know about it, it’s just-”  
  
“The same way you’ve listened to Nas?” Even counters knowingly, and yeah. Okay. He’s been caught.  
  
“Fuck off,” Isak mutters, blushing down at the floor.  
  
“If it makes you feel better, everything I know about kids’ shows is all second hand,” Even tells him. Fozzie Bear stretches sleepily as Even’s fingers tickle his back. “My little sister had a Sesame Street phase.”  
  
Isak looks up.  
  
“You have a sister?” he says, surprised.  
  
“Two,” Even confirms. “They live with my dad, I live with my mum.”

His voice is light, but Isak knows better than to push.  
  
“I think the closest thing I have to a sibling is Jonas,” Isak says, “but I used to have a crush on him, so that might cancel it out.”  
  
The last part slips out of his mouth unintended, and when Isak realises he feels his stomach drop.  
  
“Used to?” Even says, grinning. “What, is there a scandal I don’t know about?”  
  
( _Well, actually_ , Isak thinks, but the saga of him and Eva and Jonas is a story for another time.)  
  
He shrugs.  
  
“No scandal. Just over it,” he says instead, and can’t decide whether he feels very stupid or very brave. Even’s eyes flick up to meet his. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something to Isak, and then closes it.  
  
“Is, uh,” Isak starts, but the words get tangled up in the back of his throat. He coughs, looking down at the floor. “Is anyone else coming over today?”  
  
Even shakes his head.  
  
“Nobody else,” he says quietly.  
  
The silence between them stretches out. It feels like being caught in the moment before a breath is taken, the anticipatory second that comes before the inhale. Isak doesn’t move, in case moving makes the moment break.  
  
Even leans closer, slow and purposeful. He gently takes Isak’s snapback and puts it aside. He cups Isak’s face in both hands. Isak closes his eyes and feels Even’s mouth brushing against his, soft, barely-there. His hands, shaking a little, find their way into Even’s hair; he pulls Even closer and Even lets him, hands brushing down the sides of Isak’s waist before settling on his hips.  
  
“Is this…” Even murmurs when they break apart - Isak surges forward, leaning up to kiss him again, and he knows Even understands because he can feel it when Even’s lips curve up into a smile, and then the hesitance is gone. Even kisses him once, twice, three times, like he can’t quite believe Isak is here, like he can’t get enough of him, and Isak leans closer to him, wrapping his arms around the back of Even’s neck. He slows Even down, kissing him deeper and taking his time.  
  
“I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you,” Even tells him quietly. Isak’s breath catches a little at the way Even says it - simple and matter-of-fact. Like it’s something easy to admit to.  
  
“Yeah?” Isak says. His voice is shaking; he tries to hide it with a laugh. Even brushes their noses together.  
  
“Yeah,” he whispers against Isak’s mouth, “because you’re hot. And you’re smart. And I like talking to you.”  
  
He kisses Isak again, just once, sweet and brief. He brushes his thumb over Isak’s bottom lip. Isak closes his eyes.  
  
“I would’ve let you,” he tells Even softly, and admitting it is less intimidating than he thought it would be.  
  
He shifts closer tentatively, tilting his head, lips parted – Even closes the distance between them and the kiss is a slow and gentle thing. Kissing Even, Isak decides, is something that he wants to every day. Every hour. Even makes him into someone who likes to be kissed, who likes to be held: Even makes him want, in a way that’s unfamiliar and intoxicating.  
  
There is a loud, plaintive mew from Isak’s left. He groans and hides in face in Even’s neck.  
  
“I don’t think he likes sharing you,” Even comments, laughing as he strokes Isak’s hair. He moves away for a few seconds to reach for his laptop, and Isak feels a little bereft from the loss until Even settles back down at his side, wrapping an arm around Isak’s shoulders. Isak leans against him, clucking his tongue quietly until Fozzie Bear walks over and slowly climbs into his lap.  
  
“Yeah, well,” Isak says, Fozzie Bear purring contentedly in his arms. “He’s going to have to learn.”  
  
“So you want to keep me around?” Even asks – the rare dimple smile returns, and it takes all of Isak’s self-control not to lean up and kiss both of his cheeks. Instead he sighs, reaching up to flick Even’s nose.  
  
“You’re hot and you make me cheese toasties,” he tells Even. “You’re acceptable.”  
  
Even pulls him closer until Isak can rest his head on Even’s shoulder. He settles there, turning his head and nuzzling sleepily against Even’s neck. He feels a kiss being pressed into his hair.  
  
“Are you sure you’re up for a movie?” Even asks amusedly, fingers playing with the curls at the back of Isak’s neck.  
  
“M’sure,” Isak says. “Press play. I’m awake.”  
  
They manage to valiantly survive the first two thirds of Moulin Rouge before they admit defeat. Isak only realises he’s dozing when he feels Fozzie Bear stand up and shake himself, before hopping nimbly off Isak’s lap.  
  
They’ve switched positions over the course of the movie; Even’s legs are splayed out on the floor and his head is resting now on Isak’s shoulder, close enough that Isak can feel the warmth of his breathing on his neck. Isak lifts one hand to slowly brush the hair from Even’s face, and marvels quietly at the fact that he’s here, in Even’s bedroom. That Even is real, and he’s dozing on Isak’s shoulder.  
  
“What are you thinking about?” Even says sleepily. Isak smiles, runs his fingers through Even’s hair.  
  
“What was her name?”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“Your cat. The one you used to have.”  
  
“Oh,” Even says, stretching a little. He nuzzles his nose against the hollow of Isak’s neck, and says quietly, “Her name was Heidi. My parents had her years before I was born.”  
  
“Heidi’s a cute name,” Isak murmurs. He kisses the top of Even’s head.  
  
“Not as cute as Isak, though.”  
  
Isak ducks his head.  
  
“Shut up,” he mutters, smiling despite himself, and Even laughs as he sits up a little, his fingers trailing teasingly over Isak’s waist.  
  
“I’m just saying. Isak’s cuter.”  
  
“You know,” Isak says, moving so he can straddle Even’s hips, “I actually think Even is the cutest name.”  
  
“We’ll have to agree to disagree, then,” Even counters, looking up at him with his eyebrows raised. His hands stroke over Isak’s hips before settling there.  
  
“You know I’m right,” Isak tells him, low and amused, and he needs to kiss him again so he does. Even leans up to meet him halfway, one hand reaching up to brush the back of Isak’s neck, holding him in place. The thought of that makes something in him flare with warmth, makes him kiss a little messier, and Even must be able to tell because his grip tightens, pulling the hair at the nape of Isak’s neck just enough to make him gasp. Then, Isak notices the colour of the sky through the curtains.  
  
“Shit,” he mutters, reluctantly pulling away from Even and glancing around to see where Fozzie Bear has wandered off to. Even looks at him, concerned.  
  
“What’s wrong?”  
  
“It’s late. I have to go if I want to catch the last bus.”  
  
He finds Fozzie Bear tucked away in the corner, dozing on one of Even’s stray socks. His shoes are in the hall, his rucksack is in the kitchen – if he hurries, he can probably catch the 6pm service, and if all else fails he could probably talk Jonas into giving him a lift.  
  
“You could stay,” Even says softly. “I don’t mind.”  
  
Isak looks at him. Even’s’ lips are slightly flushed from kissing, his hair a little ruffled, haloed by the warm glow of the bedside lamp. He says the words lightly, like they’re nothing at all, but Isak knows where to look and he can see the slight tells of tension in the way Even’s fingers tap lightly against the sheets, the way he worries absently at his bottom lip as he watches Isak, waiting. There are no secrets between them tonight, Isak realises. No alcohol, no weed, nobody he needs to perform for, nothing he needs to hide. There’s nobody here to walk in and slam the door. There’s just this: Isak, who feels safe and warm, and Even, whose lips are pink from the kisses Isak gave them.  
  
“Yeah,” Isak says simply. “Okay.”

* * *

 

  
Isak is awake at 6am. He doesn’t approve of this for several reasons – the most important of which being this is the second day in a row he’s been forced to wake up at dawn.  
  
“Fhnhgh,” he mutters, reaching blindly for his phone, and instead he finds warm skin and the sound of someone laughing quietly.  
  
“Good morning,” Even says. Isak can hear the smile in his voice and when he opens his eyes he can see it, too. Even is lying across from him, one hand lazily stroking Isak’s hair.  
  
“Good morning,” Isak murmurs back, and brushes their noses together.  
  
“Someone decided that the rug wasn’t good enough,” Even tells him, and Isak suddenly discovers the source of his rude return to consciousness – Fozzie Bear is curled up on the duvet, sat directly over the spot where Isak’s feet are.  
  
“Tiny asshole,” he mumbles, turning his face into the pillow. Even laughs again; the sheets rustle as he leans closer to press kisses into Isak’s hair. Isak turns his head to catch Even’s lips with his own, gentle and unhurried. He rests a hand on Even’s jaw, lets it trace down his neck and settle over the curve of his collarbone, and when they break apart Even doesn’t pull away. He kisses Isak’s forehead, then his cheek, then the corner of his mouth.  
  
“Go back to sleep,” Even says, low and fond. Isak does.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm dealing with a) the skam hiatus and b) essay deadlines by writing blatantly self indulgent sappery and tbh I regret nothing. any mistakes/typos are all on me; this wasn't beta-read and it's a little rough around the edges so pls let me know if there are any errors. anyways I hope u enjoyed it!! hmu on [tumblr](http://www.azirapha1e.tumblr.com) if u wanna be pals


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